


The Box

by MessOfCurls



Series: Wax and Wane [11]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Boyfriends, Climbing Class, College, Conflict, Josh is Sad, Josh is bad at talking, M/M, Roleplay Logs, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessOfCurls/pseuds/MessOfCurls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't always need a reason to feel sad.</p><p>Josh's bad day tests the limits of Chris' patience. But sometimes, if you're lucky, some good can come from the bad in the form of a little insight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

> Song rec: Enough - SONOIO

Four texts and three missed calls had come and gone since Josh had left the doctor's office, but he'd ignored them all; choosing instead to try to walk it off. A walk around the block turned into a long walk into town, which in turn became an aimless hike through the burbs before the cold finally got to him and he'd turned back.

It was a little thing. It shouldn't have bothered him, but he wasn't feeling right at all. Well, that wasn't exactly true, perhaps a bit of a melodramatic way of putting it. The thing that got to him most wasn't that he was feeling low, but rather that he knew very well he didn't have a real reason to. It was probably the meds, but he hadn't been feeling upbeat and it frustrated him. Everything was going so well.

_So why do I feel like this?_

It was difficult for him to get his head around it. When he could pinpoint the cause of an issue, he could at least understand why he felt whatever mood had gripped him at the time. But…

He sighed as he reached the door to their room and a small part of him hoped that his roommate - the source of said missed messages - had decided to go out without him.

Four texts. Three missed calls. And it was a miracle Chris hadn’t mobilized his own personal army to go looking for his errant roomie. He’d been on the verge of texting Sam, Mike, or any of their numerous sort-of-friends who hung out on the periphery of daily life, in between pacing a furrow into the carpet of their shared room. Two sentences away from declaring to Sam that it was amber alert time, when the door was shuffled open, and then there he was. In the flesh. Looking pale, and fed up, and wonderfully real. 

So real in fact, that for once Chris flung his phone down onto the duvet of Josh’s bed, forgetting his most prized of possessions in an instant because in this moment going to Josh, fairly yanking him into a bear of a hug, was all that mattered. He could bitch him out later, (although that was a lecture which never usually came in the end), now just the simple act of knowing his best friend hadn’t succumb to the five thousand fatal scenarios he’d had mapped out by a treacherous sense of imagination, was enough. 

“Fuck. God, I was so fucking worried, J.” 

The embrace he found himself in took Josh by surprise. He'd been so wrapped up in his own head that most external stimuli had been mere distractions. There was no ignoring what was happening now; possessive arms pulling him into a hug that nearly threatened to squeeze the life out of him.

His initial instinct was to shrug Chris off and wallow in the mood he'd been walking around with for the last few hours, but when he heard the genuine concern in Chris’ voice, he thought better of it.

“I'm fine.”

When he wasn't released, Josh tried again, but his voice came out weaker than he'd anticipated as a small measure of that indefinable sadness bubbled up to the surface, “Seriously… I'm okay.”

The look Chris gave him once he forced himself to move back enough to create a decent sliver of distance between them was sceptical at best. His hands were still firm, fingers clutching just a little too hard around the sharp angles of Josh’s shoulders, and before he could stop himself a gout of frustration passed his lips, “People who are fine don’t just fucking vanish for six hours. Where the hell have you---” 

This time it was Chris who sighed. Only it was more to banish the kind of senseless irritation which would only make things worse. In its wake he just looked deflated, and broke away almost instantly upon realizing quite how bruising his grip must’ve been. 

_It’s not his fault._

“.....I’m sorry, bro. I just...I was….I thought maybe somethin’ had happened.” Nerves still trilled in the base of his gut, refusing to die down entirely even now that Josh was stood within arm’s length. When he finally turned back, it was armed with a shameful kind of grimace. One which didn’t suit him at all. 

With a little space between them, Josh found his voice. “I didn't realise I needed to ask your permission.”

He didn't need this right now. Though he hated being the reason Chris looked so horribly pained, he just didn't need this. Part of him was starting to wonder why he'd come back when he’d known deep down that he was bound to bring his baggage home with him.

Yeah, this was about right. If there was a problem to be made or an argument to be started, it was always somehow his own doing. Frustration began to boil, but quickly simmered. With a sigh, Josh turned away, pulling off his hat and flinging it half-heartedly onto the bed. However, he made no move to kick off his boots or unzip his coat, not yet. He wasn't sure if he was staying.

Another sigh as fingers raked through hat hair. “You need to stop worrying. _Please_.”

Hurt, plain and vivid blossomed throughout Chris’ eyes. In lieu of the justifiable anger he knew should be feeling, he looked like he’d just endured a slap in the face. 

_My permission. Jesus, is that how he thinks I’m playing._

Something thick and uncomfortable lodged in his throat, making it harder to swallow; more difficult to exhale the shaken breath which had trapped itself in there in the first place after Josh spoke. Was he being too possessive? Too much of a crowding presence at the other man’s back, when all he’d thought he was being was the same supportive person he’d tried to be since they were teenage idiots with scraped knees, and stupid hang ups. 

_If it’s space he wants._

Josh’s own gaze was dropped, severing the connection of what stuttering failure of a conversation they’d been having in the first place. Only this time it was Chris that went for the door, and slipped mismatched socks into worn sneakers, as he yanked a winter coat down from the rack. Such was his rush to escape, that he didn’t even pull it on properly. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” If there had been pain in his eyes before, it was diluted behind the unnecessary frames of the same glasses he’d worn since high school. Yet, there it was in one concentrated dose, communicated as a mumble whilst the door handle clicked open. 

Josh could've let him go and had the room to himself. With Chris gone, he could slump down beneath the duvet and wait for sleep to wipe the slate clean. Or he could've had it out with the blond, taking his frustration out on the nearest sounding board. 

But he didn't.

“Wait.” The word wasn't said anxiously or angrily. There were no hysterics or tears, not yet. Instead it was with a weary tone - the lingerings of a long, not so pleasant day clear in his voice - that Josh reached out and grabbed Chris by the sleeve.

He hadn't been shrugged off, but he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't be. With that in mind, Josh tried to put his feelings to one side, choosing his words carefully, taking his time over each one.

“It's not you, okay? It's...” He trailed off as he met Chris’ gaze.

_Fuck._

There was hurt there. Hurt _he'd_ put in Chris’ eyes, that he was entirely responsible for. The worst part was just how unnecessary and undeserved it was.

“I'm sorry.” Josh glanced away with the whisper of a curse word on his lips.

That little was more than enough to cause a faltering in the retreat which had lasted all of ten steps. There had been no destination behind it in the first place, and Chris was somehow sure that he’d have ended up wandering the same nameless streets Josh himself had meandered down only a short while ago. 

Letting himself be swayed by Josh was easy. It had been ever since they’d first ended up sitting shoulder to shoulder on school chairs which made backsides go numb in under a single period. Maybe it seemed like he was the one taking point as they charged headlong into college life, but the influence of their bond ran deep upon both sides of the equation. The same bruised feeling in his gut hadn’t gone away, but he didn’t snatch his arm out of the other’s grasp, or leave the door slammed shut in his wake. 

“......I can go to---go out if you want some peace.” Outside the sky had turned a wasted shade of gray which boded rain, but if that was what it took to stop Josh looking quite so fucking miserable then he’d hang out in seven elevens and dollar stores until evening rolled around. 

Josh shook his head, gaze on the floor as he released Chris’ arm. Even in the face of his unreasonable entrance, his friend was still offering to do something for him. He felt lucky and saddened by it all at once. “No... You don't have to.”

The melancholy mood he couldn't shake off marked Josh's movements as he turned away, and the sound of his coat unzipping was loud in the small room. A moment later it was discarded on his bed, slipping from his shoulders like old skin.

It wasn't only for manners sake that he didn't want to kick Chris out of his own living space. Thinking about it now, if endless hours spent alone in his own head hadn't helped outside, why did he think it would be any better back here? Perhaps having a friendly presence to distract him was what he needed after all. What he wanted, even. Maybe he just hadn't realised that when he'd first returned.

A scarf followed the coat, followed by gloves that had done little to keep his fingers from going slightly numb in the chill air. Finally, Josh sank down on top of the whole mess of clothes and turned his attention to the laces of his boots. He might not have spoken throughout, but the finality with which he shed his garments seemed to state that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

One boot, now loosened, fell to the floor as he glanced up at the blond before his fingers - made clumsy by the cold - focused on the other.

Chris remained beside the door, his own disrobing a clumsy fumble coloured with fresh awkwardness. The coat returned to its home, and only in retrospect did he realize quite why it wouldn’t slip on easily. It wasn’t even his. That much brought a tiny huff of self-deprecation into being, but he was far from his usual buoyant self. After slipping out of his sneakers, he padded in silence across to his side of their less than generous room. 

_At least he’s not out there beating himself up with his own thoughts._

Josh was still fiddling to undo the laces of his other boot, with fingers that twitched and jerked ever so slightly from the chill in the air beyond these four walls. He didn’t look up at first, didn’t feel the encroachment of the blond into his space until Chris held out a can of soda to him, with a candy bar sandwiched up against the perspiration which clung to its side.

_I know you skipped lunch._

That much went unspoken, and Chris wasn’t looking at him with fondness like he usually would. 

The matter-of-fact way the blond regarded him stilled Josh's hands. There was nothing friendly or particularly caring about the way the snacks were offered to him, not that he deserved them anyway. That fact didn't stop it from making his chest ache and his brow crease. He took them from Chris on instinct; too taken aback to really think of anything else to do, then placed them on the bed beside him as he watched Chris retreat to his side of the line separating their domains. He thought that line had faded a long time ago, but in the wake of the exchange it was there again; brightly painted with hurt feelings on the floor between them.

The other boot fell to the floor.

_More sad shit to deal with._

Josh felt awkward and alone on the bed. A childish part of him wanted to roll over and face the wall, burying himself beneath blankets and discarded clothes until the outside world felt bearable again. Instead, he got to his feet, needing to do something other than look across the chasm between the two beds at the man who didn't seem to care for his company all that much right now.

A few steps and Josh was beside his desk, looking out of the window as black clouds gathered. It was lucky he'd headed back when he did.

_Maybe._

Tucking a cold hand under his other arm to warm chilled digits, he exhaled and tried to still the sad feeling in an attempt to at least keep it under control. If he could do that then it could be… well, not good. Not even fine. Tolerable.

He was glad Chris couldn't see his face because it was flicking between an uncomfortable frown of frustration and something far sadder. He could feel it happening, muscles moving of their own accord, but he couldn't stop it, and he didn't need Chris seeing this awkward side of him right now.

“...I didn't mean to make you worry.” Josh muttered quietly.

_It’s hard not to when you up and fucking disappear right after a damn counselling session._

That whole spiteful retort was pushed down beneath the residual clot in Chris’ throat before it could gouge out more distance between them. By now he was sitting on his own bed instead of flopped over the bedding heaped onto Josh’s as he usually would have, as if it was the most natural arrangement in the world. Without a phone in his hand his palm felt itchy and fingers drummed against it, beating out a rhythm which went unnoticed. 

When he finally constructed something which didn’t sound quite so much like a scolding, his voice was almost quieter than Josh’s own. “Is that how you really feel?”

Josh often had trouble expressing himself, had done since long before their friendship had evolved into something more intimate, but Chris had always assumed he was the expert - the sommelier of all those things Josh couldn’t put into words. His interpreter when he was too muddled up in his own head to lay everything out coherently. Yet, here he was, knocked for six by Josh’s apparent opinion of him.

The question hung heavy, dragging down every inch of the room with it, but he raised his head to watch Josh’s back where he stood at the only window. 

Chris’ voice closed Josh’s eyes for him. With his back still to the blond, Josh exhaled loudly through pursed lips.

_Another question._

“Yes!” He replied, the slightest hint of irritation in his tone before a sigh wiped it away. His voice was softer now. “Yes… I do.”

“Look…” Josh began, but the sentence trailed off to nothing.

This was always the awkward part. He tried so hard to keep these two elements of his life separate, but it was difficult sometimes when one overlapped so heavily with the other. In all the years they'd known each other, he'd never spoken to Chris about what went on behind closed doors with whichever shrink was currently picking at his damaged mind. Sure, Chris knew him so much better than most - better than anyone, maybe - but it just didn't feel comfortable unloading all of that mess on him too. Chris dealt with enough of his shit already.

Josh wrapped his arms around his waist, holding himself in a loose hug. It took a while for him to feel confident enough to turn around and actually face the blond. With the right words for this moment escaping him, he defaulted to standard territory, mumbling “...I _am_ sorry.”

His first impulse was to just give in to a sudden crest of frustration and anger which washed over him in the wake of the other’s words, but even during such a rare instance, Chris was acutely aware that storming out would do neither of them a bit of good. Instead his shoulders lifted in a tired shrug, “If you want me to back off then all you hafta do is tell me.” 

They’d been living in each-other’s pockets for years now, and maybe he wasn’t reading Josh as well as he’d believed he could lately. What happened behind the closed doors of doctor’s appointments and therapist sessions was something he didn’t pry into, leaving the older man to fill in any gaps as and when he felt up to sharing. 

Yet, apparently even that much was too stifling now despite how carefully he’d trodden around what he knew were his boyfriend’s most vulnerable spots. So much for being caring, but not making Josh feel like a burden despite how difficult living with him could be on his worst days. Resentment welled up, but he shoved it back down, and shifted with palpable reluctance upon the bed. 

“I’m trying J. I am, but…..it feels like the most natural thing in the world to want to protect you even when you’re doing so well. I’ve seen what things can be like for you, when it’s bad, and….I don’t ever want you to go back to feeling like that.” A sad little smile was directed down to his sock-covered feet, and he picked at a loose thread on the toes before glancing towards the door again. 

_Always looking backwards._

It took Josh a while to speak again. “I know you don't. I _know_ that. But I don't… I don't feel that way, okay?”

Josh tried to keep the agitation from his voice, not caused by the other man but by himself this time. After all the endless talking, spilling his guts out to perfect strangers with their clinical questions, why was he so bad at this with one of the few people who actually mattered? He looked more tired than anything else as he lowered his gaze, returning to sit on the bed before succumbing to the urge to lie down atop the duvet and clothes, his eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling.

“It's...”

Again, another dead end.

“I don't want you to back off or... ugh, I don't know.”

Feeling ragdoll limp and brick heavy, Josh exhaled at length and closed his eyes. He felt the cold, smooth edge of the soda can against his hip, but did nothing to move it.

“...It's been a long one. Can we just leave it at that?” He asked after a while.

On any other day this would’ve been Chris’ cue to curl up beside him, tucking them both in beneath a reassuring layer of bedding. Josh would press the line of his back against his chest, or he’d curl a lazy arm around his middle, head cushioned against whatever place felt the most comfortable. They’d murmur to each other into the early hours sometimes, and others would end in the two of them nodding off almost instantly - safety found in shared warmth and simple touches. 

Now he looked like a child who’d been dismissed by a particularly weary parent, and wasn’t even entirely sure why they’d been chastised in the first place. Distress creased at his brow, shone like a lonely beacon in perpetually expressive eyes. Yet, instead of taking some of the potent bait for offense that Josh had lobbed back at him, he just lay down and rolled over to face the wall. There were no more words, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without piling more mistakes onto what had already apparently been mounting up without his knowledge. 

Horrible questions clawed their way up into the forefront of his mind whilst there was only plain plaster and silence to contemplate with. Was he a terrible boyfriend? A nag? A fussing presence on Josh’s back? Doubt wasn’t something he’d ever associated with their relationship, and the friendship which spanned out over the years before it. As quietly as before, he tugged up one of the blankets Nana had knitted all those years ago; the one which had followed him from his childhood home to college, and would probably remain until it fell to pieces, and used it to hide from the rest of the room - thoughts and all. 

A long time passed in uneasy silence, the pair of them divided, taking refuge in their own territories; so close yet seemingly so far apart in the small room.

Josh sighed softly.

Why did he do this? Every time something was amiss it was because he'd unleashed it upon them, troubling the calm waters of their relationship. He said and did things he didn't mean, and all the while a voice inside him pointed out the error of his ways, but he never listened to it, even though he knew it spoke the truth.

He felt lonely there, too small spread out on the meagre single bed without his companion beside him.

_Mountains out of molehills._

It took a lot of effort to sit up again, coat rustling beneath him, and turn to sit on the edge of the bed. Sock-clad feet brushed against the carpet for a while as he contemplated his next move.

He didn't like this. He didn't like it one bit. And that voice so often ignored was telling him that unless he did something, it would stay this way, or worsen.

Summoning up everything he had to give, Josh got to his feet and padded the few meagre steps to Chris’ bed, carefully settling on the mattress beside him. A moment later, his hand rested on the blond's arm. It was a light, yet definite touch; committed but cautious.

“...Please don't. I…”

A small hesitant squeeze was all he could muster before he fell silent again.

It was only now beside the blond who gave no acknowledgement of his useless, clumsy attempts to patch things up that he realised in all the time he'd spent aimlessly wandering, he hadn't even thought about him. At all. Well, apart from when his phone buzzed in his pocket, perhaps. His thoughts had taken him to other dark places that Chris’ bright presence hadn't penetrated. Meanwhile, Chris had been worrying about him, that much was clear. Guilt joined the sad weight in his stomach.

Rain tapped against the window. Beyond it, the bruised sky darkened.

_This must be what it's like._

Tired eyes followed the line of Chris’ body, sheltered from his touch by a thin barrier. So often it was Josh who lay facing the wall, making himself distant despite their proximity. Being on this side of the situation, roles reversed… it was horrible. Thinking of all the times Chris had talked him down, tapping into a seemingly endless supply of patience, the guilty feeling intensified.

“...I just wanna be your… boyfriend. Not your problem. Okay?”

The word was strange in his mouth. As yet another silence threatened to open up, Josh realised that it was perhaps the first time he'd ever used the term to describe their change in relationship.

A sigh escaped him as he gathered his thoughts. He had to talk; there was no way around it. It was hard though, when the idea of mixing those two sides of his life together was daunting at best, terrifying at worst.

“So, it's like… okay, so...”

Sometimes it was easier to explain himself using an abstract idea or metaphor. It somehow detached him from whatever point he was trying to get across. Sure, he recognised the irony - using a technique honed in his therapy sessions to describe exactly what was wrong with said sessions - but he couldn’t deny that this aspect of them was somewhat helpful. Josh began again; his tone thoughtful, voice calm as he took care of each word.

“So, you have a box, right? And it's full of all the stupid crap you've ever said and done; all the embarrassing shit, the bad stuff, and all the sad things. And they tell you to look at it. So you do. You take everything out and you look at it, like, _really_ look at it. And it's a good thing, I guess?”

Josh's hand trailed idly along Chris’ side, smoothing the creases in the dog-eared blanket.

“Then you're done. You seal it up and put a label on it and put it up in the attic because you're done with it.”

He shifted on the duvet, tucking one leg under him as he picked at the material. He sighed; a tired, unseen smile gracing his lips.

“But then they ask you to go get it again. Because they wanna take another look. So... you do. You go back up there and you get it. You pull back the tape and open it up, and all the time you're thinking ‘I already know what's in here, why are we doing this again?’ But they wanna look, so you do it anyway. Then you put it away again, but they're _still_ not done. As soon as you get back down they want you to go back up till it's this… this _burden_. This huge fucking chore that doesn't feel good anymore.”

The words weren’t said with any anger. Not even a hint of irritation. Just a melancholy that seemed to weigh the brunette down.

“It’s hard sometimes...” He admitted, trailing off for a long moment, lost in thought. Fingers curled around the curve of Chris' shoulder, travelling up to the smooth skin of his neck.

Finally, Josh spoke again, leaving the door to his confession open. “And I… I'm tired of looking at it, you know? I guess I'm tired of raking through the same sad shit all the time. Everything's good. _Finally_. And… Maybe I don't wanna go back up in the attic anymore. Not for that.” He smiled wistfully, eyes focused on the window. “There's so much _good_ stuff up there I'd rather look at.”

Silence opened up in the wake of his words, letting them settle in the still air.

The fact that Chris didn’t roll over immediately, nor did he bombard his best friend with questions he probably didn’t feel like answering, implied that rather than dismissing everything he’d shared, he was letting each and every word sink in. 

Viewing the world through Josh’s eyes wasn’t something anyone would claim to be able to do, himself included. So framing the whole experience of the sessions whose contents he’d kept close to his chest for years in such a relatable fashion at least allowed him to stop guessing at some of the things which had remained his own questions - bitten back right off of the tip of an overactive tongue more than once. 

Eventually, however, the blanket covered lump which now resembled Josh’s roommate, his….boyfriend, shifted, and he flopped down on his back for a moment before sitting up. 

There was no hiding the redness which hung in telltale blotches around tired eyes, or the slight shake in his fingers where they sought out Josh’s own. It was far less of a connection than he’d usually make - bear hugs, and gentle squeezes being the order of the decade. One which fell away as soon as the blond realized he’d made it. The seed of doubt had been etched throughout his veins, and it still coloured a measure of distance between them.

“I’m not gonna say I understand everything, because we both know I don’t know shit, but…” At this he shook his head ever so slightly, “I’m not trying to make you feel like some kinda burden, or...to control you, or...I don’t even know. I’m _not_. Not consciously. I’m just so used to things _not_ being alright that now we’re here, together, and you’re actually living some kind of life with me….that feeling of wanting to protect you, it’s still there.” 

He offered a tiny, quietly miserable shrug, and looked at everywhere except Josh. 

“M’sorry….the last person I ever wanted to hurt was you, and---and if that’s all I’m doing then I….maybe I should go.” 

_Why would you think I want that?_

Though he'd been heard, Josh still didn't feel like he was being understood. But what did he expect when he was so bad at expressing this side of himself? Perhaps some other time he would've thrown up his hands and gone out to finish off the aimless walk, just to avoid dealing with the situation. But not now, with Chris avoiding his gaze, saying things that he didn't want the other man to feel, making Josh miss him even though he was right in front of him.

_You're fucking this up. Again._

“I don't want that.” His hand found Chris’ again, the gesture marked with a hesitance that belied his eagerness to reconnect with him in some small way. “Man… of _course_ I don't want that.”

Chris still wasn't looking at him. Panic stabbed him hard and sharp in the gut, worrying Josh’s brow and troubling his gaze. He bit it down. He didn't need to make this worse.

Steadying his voice as much as he could, laced fingers tightening around a reluctantly held hand, Josh managed to speak again. “I know what you mean, I think? ‘Cause I…”

No escaping behind abstract ideas this time.

“...I feel the same, okay? I wanna protect you too.” He looked down at their hands and mumbled. “I know I don't get a chance to...”

What was he saying? It was clear that the blond needed saving from the negative thoughts wedging this distance between them. But the words weren't coming this time.

The hand cradled in his own was gathered up and held with such care as Josh pressed it to his lips, planting a firm, urgent kiss upon it before holding it to his chest.

Staying mad at Josh was something which required a monumental effort, even if you were someone as tempestuous as Mike, or as prone to personality dissections as Emily. Chris was a complete failure at it on all fronts; from the moment Josh admitted to wanting to keep him safe as well, to the second he felt his hand being held between both of his boyfriend’s own. 

The issues between them hadn’t magically disappeared, but those little insights into a world which remained abstract even after all these years, caused his animosity towards the older man to evaporate for the time being. 

A hug came first, in the form of his free arm encircling Josh’s shoulders and tugging him close until he was leaning against his side as he propped himself up at the head of his bed. Then soft, murmured words, meant only for the two of them, even when no one else was within sight let alone hearing distance. 

“....you know, you already did, like a million times.” He was smiling now, just the faintest quirk at the corners of his lips, but it was there.

“.....back when I had surgery, I never said anything, but I was so fucking scared I’d go blind, or end up all scarred and stuff. The only thing that kept me calm was whenever I’d hear your voice. And when my dog died and you brought cookies cos that’s all you could sneak outta your kitchen, and you hugged me while I got snot all over your favorite t-shirt…..you’re not...not the only one who needs help sometimes, but you’re the only one who’s been able to help me get through some really shitty days.” 

With another tiny, oddly self-conscious shrug, he trailed off. 

Relief began to slowly displace the slow-building anxiety as Josh settled into Chris’ side, prompted by the merest hint of things between them approaching something resembling ‘okay’ again.

Chris’ confession had him smiling weakly, but there was an undertone of sadness to it. Those moments, little snapshots of their life together, were thankfully among the collection that had survived the analysis of others, not victims of the process that so often picked his memories apart with prying questions. All but the first.

He remembered it well: going to the hospital when the blond was finally allowed visitors. It had scared him, seeing Chris look so vulnerable and strangely small for such a larger than life character, despite the brave act that Josh saw through but didn't have the heart to call him on. He'd had to be the ‘strong one’ then, though he wasn't fully aware of it at the time. It had been difficult, but he'd done it.

_How does that make you feel, Joshua?_

Pushing the thought aside, Josh wrapped his arm loosely around the other's chest. “Thanks…” The smile grew just a touch. “... I learned from the best, right?”

As he watched the rise and fall of Chris’ chest, a thought nagged at him. Why, after all this time, had he taken the more damaging road when it didn't have to be so difficult? Hadn't he learned anything? It wasn't an unreasonable assumption that, had he just answered his phone, the last six hours could've been spent like this, and Chris wouldn't have objected in the slightest.

“I'm sorry.” He murmured. The apology was unforced this time, born not from frustration but from genuine remorse. “I was stupid. Before.”

“Dude, you’re like the smartest guy I know…..not stupid at all, just...distracted I guess?” The way Josh had described his sessions, even as abstract as the notions were, implied that he had a head full of things all clamouring for his attention even before some professional in a stuffy office raked through them all. 

A kiss found its way to Josh’s temple, and Chris remained close, arm still curled around shoulders which trembled without their owner’s knowledge or consent. That much compelled him to drag the rest of the blanket up around the two of them, creating a fresh warmth which would be hard to drag themselves away from when the rest of the world came calling. 

“.......we’re both idiots, right?” He chuckled at this, and settled Josh against his chest. That much had been true for years. 

“Yeah… we are.” Josh managed to summon up a little amusement as he relaxed against Chris’ chest.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he hadn’t come back sooner. The dexterity was gradually returning to tepid fingers and his feet were warming up nicely beneath the blanket. The blond’s body was a warm, reassuring presence against his own, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble that indicated his bed mate was still not quite at ease.

“I should’ve come back sooner.” He murmured, mostly to himself, while the rain continued to tap its irregular rhythm on the window pane.

The guilt hadn’t quite left him yet. If anything, it had deepened into a dull feeling, untinged by the earlier panic that had gripped him. Chris had every right to be pissed off and somewhere else right now, but he’d stayed. Again.

He always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Another old RP log. As usual, I wrote Josh and my partner wrote Chris.
> 
> Tumblr: [@messofcurls-creative](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com/)


End file.
